Damon handed him a plate. “Fill it up and sit.”

Micah didn’t need to be told twice. Examining the contents of the containers, he confirmed his suspicions: Damon really had ordered a little bit of everything. There was orange chicken on a bed of rice, some sort of pasta with colorful vegetables, spring rolls, even pizza.

Micah took a little of it all – he’d been standing on that sidewalk for hours before Damon had shown up, okay? – and topped it off with a generous helping of chocolate-covered strawberries.

Pulling out one of the upholstered stools surrounding the kitchen island, Micah dug in. He started with the orange chicken and quickly had to swallow down a moan of satisfaction. It was the perfect mix of sweet and savory, with a little kick of spice at the end. “This is amazing,” Micah praised, forking another piece of chicken into his mouth before following that up with a spring roll. He couldn’t ignore the strawberries any longer after that, picking up the largest one and popping it into his mouth. Sweetness burst on his tongue, pairing perfectly with the bitter chocolate. Juice threatened to dribble down his chin, and he quickly licked his lips.

When he finally managed to tear his gaze away from his food, Micah saw that Damon was openly staring and was promptly mortified. “Sorry. I’m being a slob.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Damon rebuffed throatily, and Micah couldn’t help but notice that his eyes seemed to be stuck on his sticky lips. “I bought it for you.”

Micah willed away a blush. “Well, you have to eat something, too,” he insisted. “I’ll feel weird otherwise.”

Damon frowned, but obliged. Micah watched as the man took a plate and filled it with some pasta and various meats and cheeses before pulling out a stool by Micah.

Micah waited until he had forked a bite of pasta into his mouth before asking, “So… finances, huh?”

Damon didn’t choke or show the same momentary unease he had in the car when Micah had inquired about his job. “I dabble in shipping operations, but work in real estate mostly,” he explained plainly instead. “I own hundreds of buildings in New York, mostly in Queens and Manhattan – some commercial and some residential.”

“Hundreds of buildings?” Micah repeated incredulously. “As in plural?” Forget real estate mogul, this guy was a tycoon.

Damon waved a hand. “It’s not nearly as impressive when you consider the fact I inherited most of them when my parents died.”

And just like that, Micah felt bad for prying. He winced. “Oh, wow. That… that sucks,” Micah said honestly. He would know. Not about inheriting hundreds of millions worth of property, obviously, but losing a parent… that he could relate to.

“It does,” Damon agreed solemnly, before clearing his throat. “Anyway, as you can imagine, conducting business takes up the majority of my time. Adella wasn’t kidding when she told you it doesn’t leave time in my life for much else.” He paused. “What about you?” he asked. “I mean, besides…” he hurriedly attempted to backtrack.